Beyond Repair
by iheartgarystu
Summary: All parents damage their children. Lionel takes it to the extreme. P.S. I love reviews.


**Beyond Repair**

By iheartgarystu

NC-17, non-con, angst, Lex/Lionel

A childhood memory Lex couldn't repress. Warning: Contains graphic incest.

"All parents damage their children. It cannot be helped. Youth, like pristine glass, absorbs the prints of its handlers. Some parents smudge, others crack, a few shatter childhood completely into jagged little pieces, beyond repair." –Mitch Albom

Lex Luthor sat on the floor of his solid white bedroom, enjoying the feel of plush carpeting on his bare skin. It was late afternoon, and the day's last sunlight was trickling in from the large window behind him, giving the room a subdued air. Lex held the blade up to the light, savoring the way the sun beams danced across the sharp edge. He thought about why he was here. It had been a bad week. Unidentifiable feelings, unnamable thoughts, unspeakable impulses had been boiling and coursing through his veins for the past several days, and he felt that if he didn't do something to equalize the pressure, he would explode or go insane.

A quick flick of his wrist and hot searing pain followed. It took but an instant for the crimson liquid to show itself on Lex's porcelain white arm. He felt the emotional pressure lessen as he watched the blood bubble up and quickly begin to harden. The physical pain also aided in his catharsis for it allowed him to feel, to feel something real, something he could identify. Even though there was a torrent of unbearable emotion within him, he felt, most of the time at least, numb. It was an interesting paradox in Lex's psychological make-up—it was probably the only thing that allowed him to be comfortable in his own skin.

The first cut had stopped bleeding now—he took care never to cut himself too deep, never to leave a scar—and looking at the cut, he decided he wasn't satisfied. Another flick of his wrist and a gash had been formed on his thigh. This one was deeper than the first, and a thin line of red threatened to ruin his immaculate white carpet. He stopped the trail with his finger. His first impulse was to lick the blood from his hand, but he hesitated. The sickly sweet copper was thick in his nostrils, and it reminded him of the events that led him to start doing this seven years ago.

Lex was a sophomore at Excelsior, an elite all-boy prep school, when he discovered his penchant for sucking cock. At fifteen he had already had a little over two years worth of experience—and fun—with the fairer sex, but a classmate named Jeremy taught him that he could have fun with boys too. And he did. He had gone down on ten of his classmates and was diligently working on the eleventh when he got caught by someone who just wouldn't be bribed, Headmaster Reynolds.

Reynolds was not fond of the Luthor boy. He looked at Lex and saw a poor little rich boy with a colossal chip on his shoulder and a lot of wasted potential. Why? Lex had top marks in his class, but he hated Excelsior. Two or three times a year he would cause some sort of scandal to try to get himself expelled, but then his father would always bail him out. Reynolds was sick of dealing with the vandalism and the gambling and the drugs, but at least he could count on Lionel Luthor to donate a new science lab or cafeteria every time his son acted out.

Lex, for his part, did not intend to get expelled for having sex with his male classmates. When it came to his same-sex affairs, he generally kept a low profile, at first anyway. After a few successful trysts, he became bolder. Looking back on it, the library may not have been the best rendezvous point on campus. When the headmaster walked in on Lex with Ambassador Lennox's son, he was livid. The Lennox boy was excused. Lex was expelled on the spot.

Lionel was called. Lex sat in a plain wooden chair in the waiting room outside the headmaster's office. He had heard the Luthorcorp helicopter land on the soccer field behind the east wing, but he had not seen his father yet. As he came into the waiting room after being called by the secretary, he saw that the headmaster's thick, windowless door was closed. Lex could only assume Lionel was behind it being told every sordid detail about what Reynolds had happened upon in the philosophy section of their musty old library. Imagine his surprise (and relief) when O'Brian, one of his father's flunkies, came through the heavy oak door. "Come on," he said.

"My things…" Lex had managed to pack about half of his stuff, but everything was still upstairs in the dorms.

"Your father said to leave everything but your essentials. The rest will be sent for later."

Lex followed O'Brian through the school and across the grounds. The other boys stared. Most of them were smirking, but Lex hardly noticed. He was too busy trying to decide what it meant that Lionel had not come in person this time. Was it a good thing? Did it mean his father didn't consider his most recent scandal and expulsion from the country's most elite prep school a big deal? Or was he so pissed off/disappointed/disgusted that he refused to see Lex in person? Most likely he just really didn't care. Yeah, that was it. He wasn't surprised that his most recent charade hadn't pulled the elder Luthor away from his work. Lex had stopped trying to get Lionel's attention a long time ago.

The helicopter ride to his father's estate in Metropolis was long and uneventful. He didn't bother trying to find out what O'Brian knew or trying to bribe him into silence. O'Brian would likely lie to him, take his money, and then tell Lionel everything that transpired. The two rode in silence, Lex peering out the window at the changing landscape below, glad he had gotten over his childhood fear of heights. He supposed he had his father to thank for that—that and little else.

The helicopter arrived at the Luthor estate around one in the morning. After grabbing a snack in the kitchen, Lex tiredly made his way up to his bedroom. He knew that his father would be asleep by now, and he would not have to deal with him until morning (if at all). He stripped himself of his school uniform and climbed into bed. He always slept most comfortably in the nude but had to wear pajamas in the dorms. He stretched out in his double bed (another luxury he missed while at Excelsior). He loved the feel of cool silk sheets on his bare skin and could already feel himself drifting off to a good nights sleep. God, it was good to be home.

Lex awoke to the sound of his door opening. The clock beside his bed read 3:27. Lex squinted at the figure in his doorway and recognized his father by his thick mane of hair. "What the hell do you want? It's three in the fucking morning."

"How dare you take that tone with me, Alexander." Christ, Lionel only said "Alexander" when he was really pissed. "I give you everything and all I ask in return is that you not cause a scandal, that you don't do anything to tarnish our good name."

"Good? You've got to be…"

"Don't interrupt, Alexander. You have defied my wishes more times than I can count, but no more."

"What do you intend to do?" Lex smirked.

"Do you recall the story of Prometheus, the rebel god who constantly defied his father, Zeus? Hmm?" Lionel advanced on Lex's bed. "Prometheus never respected his father. He belittled him. But Zeus was lenient with him. That was a mistake. Prometheus deceived Zeus and ruined his plans for the mortals. Do you remember the punishment Prometheus received?"

Lex could smell scotch on his father's breath. He was growing nervous but didn't allow himself to show it. Rule number one for dealing with Lionel Luthor: Never show fear. His face remained unreadable as he drawled his response. "Sure, Zeus shackled him to the side of a crag in the Caucasus Mountains and had an eagle eat out his liver. What's your point, Dad?"

Lionel's face was inches from Lex's. "The eagle didn't just eat out his liver once, son. Every night, his immortal body healed, and the next day, the eagle came back at dawn to tear at his flesh again."

"Dad, I'm tired. Get to your point or get out." Rule number two for dealing with Lionel Luthor: Do show strength. As Lex spoke, Lionel leaned back. Just as he was saying "get out," Lionel backhanded him, sending the smaller Luthor to the floor. If Lex had a moment to think about it, he would have congratulated himself on bringing his sheets with him. His chin hit the hardwood floor; he bit into to his tongue, hard. Blood pooled in his mouth; the taste and smell of it permeated his senses. Okay, fuck the rules. His father had only hit him once before, and that was because of….

Lex then became aware of the fact that his father was pulling him to his feet. "Dad, don't! I'm naked!"

"From what I hear, you don't mind getting naked in front of other men at that school of yours. Why the sudden bashfulness?" Lex didn't answer. He was too busy struggling against his father and trying to keep his sheet around his waist. The stronger Luthor finally yanked the sheet away then backhanded his son once again. Lex sank to the floor, dizzy. His stomach was starting to churn at all the blood he had swallowed and his tongue and left cheek were throbbing. When he was hoisted up again, he didn't fight. Lionel gripped the back of his neck and shoved the boy face down onto his bed, using his weight to hold Lex's pale, naked body there. Lex became aware of his compromising position.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Lex practically growled at Lionel, blood trickling out the sides of his mouth.

"I am merely treating you like the whore you've become. Now, get on your hands and knees." Lionel sounded calm, authorative.

"Dad, don't…." Lex's 15 year old voice cracked. He felt so small and weak.

Lionel tightened his grip on his son's throat, long fingers reaching all the way around to his windpipe. "On your hands and knees, Alexander." Lex did as he was told. He felt the mattress dip behind him. Lionel had joined him on the bed. Lex felt his cheeks being pried apart and a well-lubricated finger found his opening. In an instant, Lex realized Lionel must have brought the lube with him. He was planning to do this the whole time.

Lex tried in vain to sound strong as he pleaded with his father. "Dad, please, I've never…I'll never defy you again. Please."

"Don't beg, son. It's not becoming of a Luthor to beg." Lionel whispered into his son's ear as he undid his belt and zipper. He freed his semi-erect member from 200 dollar boxer shorts and stroked himself to hardness. Lex thought he heard him tear open a condom wrapper. Both Luthors were silent as Lionel pressed into his son, giving Lex no time to adjust to his girth before commencing with his violent assault on the boy's ass. Lex choked back a sob. "Aren't you enjoying yourself, Alexander?" Lionel hissed at the back of Lex's smooth, bald head as he reached around take Lex's limp cock in his hand. He roughly stroked and pulled the cock to hardness. Lionel simultaneously pounded into Lex and jerked him off. Tears of shame ran down the teen's face. He couldn't believe how his body reacted against his will. Lex gritted his teeth, determined not to make a sound during the assault, though his breath did hitch when Lionel's cock found his prostate. Lionel chuckled. Lex hated himself for reacting.

This seemed to go on for hours. Lex's back ached; his arms were tired. He tried to focus his thoughts on these discomforts, trying to ignore the fact that his father was raping him. Shit, Lionel knew just how to angle his thrusts to hit Lex's prostate every time. This, coupled with the constant attention Lionel was giving his cock, caused the teen to come against his will. He strained to hold his weight up as his body shuddered in orgasm. Lionel released his son's cock and wiped some of his come on the boy's back. Lionel continued to thrust into the younger Luthor, but his thrusts were becoming less steady and more erratic. He held Lex's hips in a bruising grip as he buried himself to the hilt and came. Lex felt sweat-drenched tendrils of his father's hair brush his back as Lionel leaned into to his ear and whispered, "I believe I have made my point." Lex collapsed onto his bed as he heard Lionel walk into his bathroom and flush the toilet. He left without saying another word.

Lex buried his face in his pillow, sobbing, smearing it with blood from his injured tongue. His silk sheets no longer felt cool and smooth. They felt rough, sticky, and cold. He didn't lay there long. As the reality of what happened sank in, he felt that familiar churning sensation in his stomach. He had to move much faster than he wanted to in order to make it to the bowl in time. He emptied his stomach of what little he'd eaten that day then dry heaved until every muscle in his body ached. He curled up on the cold tile floor. He never wanted to move again.

That night Lex slept on him bathroom floor. He woke at dawn, around seven or so, and was shocked at the image in his full-length mirror. There was blood and vomit around his mouth. His left cheek was swollen and bruised. There were bruises on his hips and throat and dark circles under his eyes, and he hurt everywhere. He had seen better days.

Lex showered. He stood under the scalding water for over an hour, letting it wash away the previous night's events. He already knew he wouldn't tell anyone what happened. His father was too powerful, and he would only bring more misery upon himself if he tried to press charges. He dressed himself in black slacks and a black turtle neck sweater to hide the marks on his throat. He could do nothing about his bruised cheek but figured he could just say he'd been in a fight, which was quite plausible. He was hungry. He hated the thought of walking through the mansion to the kitchen since there was a slight chance of running into Lionel, but more than that, he hated the idea of staying in his room all day. There was blood and cum on his sheets; the place reeked of sex. The more he thought about it, the stronger the smell became. It was suffocating him; he bolted from the room.

He kept his eyes on the floor as he made his way to the kitchen. The mansion seemed very busy. The maids were cleaning, dusting, vacuuming, chatting loudly, gossiping…probably about him. They tended to lower their voices considerably as he passed. The main chef greeted him as he entered the kitchen. He offered to make Lex anything his heart desired. His stomach was empty and grumbling, but he feared getting sick again so he just asked for some dry toast and a sprite. The chef seemed disappointed but didn't argue with him. Lex sat at the end of a vast dining room table and half-heartedly nibbled at his toast, wishing it was fashionable to have cushions on ones dining room chairs. A grandfather clock at the end of the dining hall told him it was a quarter past nine. Lionel would be at his office by now and wouldn't be home for eleven hours at least. He would have the mansion to himself.

Lex spent most of the day sleeping in a guest bedroom, fully clothed and with the door locked. When he got up that afternoon there was a message waiting for him. Lionel had sent him a fax, which simply read: Be prepared to leave for Excelsior tomorrow morning. Lex did not see or hear from his father for the rest of his stay at the mansion but he would later discover that Lionel had given the school a rather large grant to build a new library. The grant was offered on two conditions, Lex would be allowed to stay and Reynolds would be let go.

Lex had always been a fast healer so by the next morning, his tongue had ceased to ache and his bruises were beginning to fade. At Excelsior no one even mentioned them. Not that he had any real friends there, nor did he want to expose what had happened. But still, he was human, and he would have liked for someone to show some concern. No one did. No one cared.

Lex became very angry and desperate for someone to notice his pain. He stole a steak knife from the cafeteria, and about two weeks after his trip home, sat on the tile floor of their community bathroom under a warm shower and hacked at his wrist. He wasn't sure what he intended to do. Maybe he really wanted to die or maybe he just wanted attention, but he got neither. He found he didn't have the will to cut himself deeply enough to be fatal, and although he did have marks on his left wrist for quite a while after that, he kept them covered up most of the time. No one noticed, and if they did, they didn't say anything.

He did get something out of it, though. He discovered that by cutting himself, by watching himself bleed, he was able to lessen his anger. It relaxed him somehow. From that point on, cutting was his drug. Anytime he had a shitty day, he would relieve his stress by committing acts of violence against himself. He had a few close calls with it. Once or twice he got carried away and cut a little too deep, though it was never bad enough sanction a trip to the emergency room, or in his case, a house call from a private doctor. Sometimes a lover would notice the cuts and ask him about them, but he always managed to brush off their questions. He didn't really like what he was doing to himself, but it worked for him, so he never tried to change it.

Now here he was, seven years older and still cutting. After his father's story about Prometheus, how he had been tortured not once but every day, Lex worried that his father intended to come after him again, maybe several times, but Lionel never touched him again. However, looking at the gashes on his forearm and thigh, he realized that he had been tortured nearly every day. He felt like he had pretty much gotten over the rape, but it would always be with him. It would always be in the back of his mind, haunting him. It was what led him to this miserable life of cutting and bleeding and healing and cutting again.


End file.
